


Sleepwalking

by philanthropics



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, One Shot, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philanthropics/pseuds/philanthropics
Summary: Clorica has been worried about Frey. She overworks herself to the point of exhaustion. Maybe a little late night bonding will do them well.





	Sleepwalking

**Author's Note:**

> I love Clorica she's so cute. I played the game as a guy first because I'm so used to being drawn the women, but I actually liked the guys for once! However, Clorica has a special place in my heart and there isn't that much content for her. It was originally gonna be Lest/Clorica but 1) I played as Frey more so I'm used to her and also 2) I'm not straight so it felt natural for me to write this as Frey c:

She wasn’t sure what woke her up. It could have been anything. Perhaps it was the sound of the floorboards creaking under her sluggish steps, the weak, yet certainly present snoring, or maybe the chilling air that rushed into the room upon closing the door. Regardless of the cause, Clorica often found herself waking up at Frey’s door, a habit that embarrassingly formed unbeknownst to her.

It was still a fresh occurrence, something that only happened once Venti went into hibernation nearly a month ago. She found it weird, and if she could prevent it, she would. Frey never kept her door closed; it was supposed to be symbolic. She wanted to be trustworthy and have her doors open for everyone, regardless of the hour. The meaning was nice, but Frey was only around the castle early in the morning and very late at night.

For the last four weeks, Clorica would wake up after a bout of sleepwalking at the door, peek in just to make sure that Frey was there and safe, and then hurriedly rush back to her own bed. Undoubtedly it was creepy, she would hate anyone to watch her sleep, and she struggled with the guilt over it. But ever since Venti went to sleep, Clorica found herself worrying about her princess.

Exhaustion lingered on the poor princess from never taking a break. Clorica noted Frey’s calloused hands and how muscular her limbs became. She saw how chapped her lips were due to the relentless winter air that dried out her face because she refused to stop farming despite the frozen temperatures. Bags were forming under Frey’s eyes from the late hours she was out fighting at Leon Karnak. Both old and new scars covered her body, many unnoticeable, from fighting orcs and other beasts. Clorica looked at the mirror and saw her own amber eyes stare at herself, sleep softly kissing her eyelids, and she wondered if there was anything she could ever do to assist the girl. Her niche was at home, whereas Frey thrived from conquering the world outside of brick walls and velvet loveseats.

Just as much as Frey was changing, the town was too. Three new arrivals other than Frey came to town, all three finding themselves at home in Selphia. Two girls and a boy found companionship in the residents of the once quiet village, and Clorica realized that change can be good too. With each season came a new resident, and falls arrival of Dolce completed a puzzle that Clorica didn’t know was missing a piece. The young bachelorettes in town would often gather for tea and a small bit of gossip, the key form of entertainment. It rarely included Frey, who was too busy fighting and farming, and thus she was often the topic of conversation.

“I admire her strength, I wish she would ask us to battle with her more.”

“Are you jealous she goes without you? Don’t worry, you’re always a hero in my book!~”

“M-Margaret!”

It bothered her for a reason she could not articulate properly to make others understand. They idolized her like she was a heroine, and while it’s true to an extent, it was almost dehumanizing. It felt like it took away credit from Frey’s great feat. They didn’t see how hard it was for the girl, how she was pushing herself every day to do better. Frey wasn’t a demi-god, but she was godlike in her own respects. Her humanity charmed Clorica, and the willingness to better the town over all else may be a good quality for a princess in the eyes of some, Clorica found it to be a terrible job on a person’s soul. Her daytime duties were plagued by worry throughout the butler’s day.

Tonight was the first time Clorica took action in her sleepwalking. Frey crashed into a slumber immediately upon returning home. Her dirty clothes from the day’s labors clung onto her, claiming her skin as its own. The pajamas Clorica left on the nightstand next to the bed were untouched, and the neat folds so carefully constructed were left unadmired. In her hurry to find solace in the comfort of a bed, Frey laid on top of the blanket, stomach pressing down on the quilt.

Frey slept on top of her blanket in such a way that was impossible for Clorica to cover her in it without waking her. It was Clorica’s own fault for making the bed when Frey was weeding the white crystals. But the window in Frey’s room provides the perfect view to the fields, and the daily task is comforting for Clorica because she can watch her just long enough to know that she is safe.

With soft steps on the cold marble floor, Clorica quickly made her way to her room, her usual drowsy pace disappeared upon realizing she had a mission. She grabbed her red quilt, the one with sewn patches where the poor thing tore over the countless seasons it kept her warm and eased her into sleep. The heavy material trailed behind her like a train on a wedding dress, which slowed her pace, but she continued with quickened steps. It didn’t bother her that it dragged on the floor; she knew the floors were clean because Volkanan moped today and he never once did cheap work.

She hesitated at Frey’s doorframe. It felt different coming here deliberately with a purpose and not accidentally. She inhaled a long deep breath of a crisp winter draft that crept into the room from an ajar window. She drifted to the bed, where she put the blanket on the feet of the overworked girl and then lifted it up, letting the cloth rest Frey’s upper back and shoulders. The quilt did not cover her completely and it bunched up near her shoulders, but Clorica didn’t dare tempt fate and wake the girl up by fixing the blanket. Hopefully, Frey would sleepily fix it as the night continued.

Clorica made her way to the window; fresh air was vital for good health, but once the sun disappeared for the moon to emerge, the dropping temperatures were harsh and could not claim the castle for a home. Clorica stood on her toes and wiggled the worn wood, but the light oak creaked in defiance to her task. With more pressure, the window closed, but it was not a silent deed. The crash from the forceful push was noisy, and it was nearly impossible for it to have not waken up the room’s owner.

The cold air did not freeze Clorica in place, but rather, her own embarrassment did. A moment passed before she felt confident in turning around and leaving, being sure to avoid eye contact with Frey. Surely, she gave her enough time to fall back to sleep, but it made her feel better to not check on this idea. Soundlessly she made her way to the exit, and she was slowly gaining confidence in the fact that she would escape without waking Frey up. At the doorway she paused when opening the door, careful to keep the noise as low as possible. But not a second after turning the antique iron handle unlocked the old frame, Frey shifted in her sleep, letting a squeak escape her lips in doing so.

“How do you do it?” she mumbled, and Clorica doubted she heard right. It must have been the dreary talk of a dream possessing Frey to speak in her sleep. However, Clorica wasn’t completely sure.

Despite her embarrassment, she turned to face the princess. It would be rude to ignore her if she was awake. Clorica made sure to keep her voice soft just in case Frey was talking in her sleep.

“How do I do what?”

“How do you braid your hair by yourself?” Frey asked, and Clorica knew at this moment that Frey was awake. She smiled briefly at the innocence of the question, it was one she certainly did not think she would be asked under the circumstances. While it was nice hearing her voice, the guilt she felt from blaming herself for waking Frey up unsettled her stomach.

“My mother taught me when I was a little girl,” she said, inspecting one of her amethyst locks. “And I kept it this way ever since.”

“Every time I try on my own hair they come out uneven,” she used her elbows to her sit up in bed, then leaned her back against her bed’s headboard for support in sitting upright.  

“I can teach you later,” assured Clorica. She played with the cotton material of her nightgown to give her fingers something to do. Immediately afterwards, she felt silly for her words. Frey never had a free moment, with tonight being prime evidence of that. It was well past midnight, and only now did the princess have a moment to rest.

“I would like that,” Frey smiled. There was a genuine smile on her lips. Clorica appreciated how honest Frey appeared. While she did tend to her own work most of the time, conversations with the princess seemed like Frey was just as interested in everyone. On festival days, she always made sure to talk to everyone, and she competed in traditional Selphian festivals that may have seemed unusual to outside eyes. From the very beginning, Frey made herself at home with the village, and she never acted like she was above anyone else.

“Your braids are so pretty, but I think your hair would be nice to see down every now and again,” continued Frey. Her confession caught Clorica off guard and she felt a rush of warmth brush her cheeks.

“It’s not professional to have your hair down in my field of work,” she said. Even Vishnal kept his hair tied.

“Ahh, I see. Sorry for bringing it up,” Frey apologized. “Maybe I should follow my own advice. It’s nice to have a change of pace. Every day feels so monotonous.” She grabbed one of her twin tails and pulled out the elastic that kept it in place, then followed suit with the other one. Clorica admired Frey’s hair. It was frizzy and tangled from seeing combat earlier today, but the messiness suited the girl. She stood adoring the princess’s charm, all the while speechless. Frey continued to sit up in bed.

“It _is_ after hours, it should be okay to take down, I guess,” Clorica found her voice after realizing it was too quiet for too long. She found the bottom of a braid and started to untwirl the strand. She worked with the lilac hair for what seemed like eternity, the complexity of the braid proved untangling a difficult task.

Frey softly giggled upon seeing she had her way. “Come over, I can help with the other one!”

“Oh, okay,” Clorica mumbled, embarrassed by how long the deed was taking her. She sat on the edge of the bed, just close enough to where Frey could untangle from where she was. However, Frey crawled out of the covers and sat close to Clorica.

“I’ve been such a mess lately,” Frey said aloud, taking off the gloves she fell asleep in. She was quiet enough that she may have been speaking to herself, but Frey was so close to Clorica that she couldn’t really tell. Frey then started making work of Clorica’s braid, her fingers gently undoing the design.

“You’re doing hard-work,” Clorica stammered. “You’re stronger than the rest of us. No one can do what you do.” Her tone was serious, wanting to make sure that Frey understood how important she was.

Frey laughed and finished her work. She held onto Clorica’s arm and rested her head on the girl’s shoulder.

“Everyone in this town works so hard every day. I feel like I’m trying to keep with them,” she mused. “I’m doing what is good for the town,” Frey paused. “and for Venti’s sake.”

“We all appreciate it, princess,” Clorica nodded. “We all appreciate you.”

 Frey’s grip on Clorica’s arm tightened.

“Frey?”

All was quiet for half a minute. Clorica felt Frey’s breathing change, and she gently placed her head on Frey’s for comfort.

After that, Frey let loose tears that fell like burning rain on Clorica’s shoulder. It was impossible to ignore, but Clorica didn’t know how to react on the spot. She loosened Frey’s grip on her arm and she placed her hand on the girl’s hip. She quickly forced the girl into a hug.

Frey’s tears turned into a muffled sob.

“I need to do more, everyone’s counting on me to bring her back. I can’t disappoint them,” Frey choked out. “But I’m drained. I have nothing left in me to fight with!”

Clorica remained silent. Frey always shined her valiant smiles, this was the first time Clorica ever heard Frey’s pain. She knew it existed, but now Frey was comfortable enough with her to let it out. Her hands slowly, gently pat Frey’s back and she reassuringly nuzzled her face into her neck. It was just enough to let Frey know that she was not alone.

“Leon Karnak is so big, and it’s the tallest thing I’ve ever seen!” She sniffled, and with each sob became less coherent. “The monsters are so strong, I’ve been drinking nothing but potions all day!” Clorica felt tears soak through her shirt. “But it’s still not enough!”

“You don’t have to be alone, princess,” Clorica whispered, just loud enough for Frey’s ear. “I’m here for you. We’re all here for you.”

This caught Frey’s attention enough just to wane the height of her tears. She had nothing else to say but continued sniffing sporadically. Frey resorted to breathing out of her mouth because her nose was clogged, and Clorica felt her hot breath slowly find a normal rhythm.

“I have a present for you,” Frey said weakly, sniffing at the end. “I saw them and then thought of you.” She grabbed her bag off the floor and placed it in Clorica’s lap. Six ruby red apples were inside.

“Oh, what a wonderful gift!”

“I know you like them,” Frey mumbled without making eye contact.

“I’ll make an apple pie tomorrow and show you how to braid your hair. Normally I have tea with the girls, but let’s have a special tea tomorrow, okay?” Clorica placed her hand on Frey’s and she didn’t retract. She squeezed it gently. Frey squeezed back.

“Sounds good,” Frey turned her head to look at Clorica. Clorica saw the emeralds in Frey’s eyes gleam. Despite just crying, her skin glowed in the dawn’s promising life. Her own breath quickened looking at someone so heavenly.

Clorica yawned and Frey followed suit. Not only is fighting a tiresome activity, but crying is notorious for being just as exhausting. Suddenly, Frey’s bed felt so comfortable to sit on.

“Do you want to have a sleepover?” Frey asked, noticing Clorica fall in and out of consciousness.

“It wouldn’t be right for a butler to sleep with her princess,” Clorica noted, but fell onto the bed. She let out the softest snores that Frey smiled upon hearing. Ever since she got here, those snores were starting to sound a lot like how she envisioned home to sound like.

Frey grabbed the end of the blanket and tucked her and Clorica in, an act she had never done before. She wondered if anyone had done it to Clorica before. She mentioned her mother earlier, maybe she had? Frey decided she would ask Clorica about her mother later. She didn’t have much time to think about it, for within moments, she descended into sleep.


End file.
